Look What The Cat Dragged In
by Meaghan McCormak
Summary: Kurt's plans for him and Rachel in NY change drastically overnight and he's desperate until a friend mentions another friend -a stranger to him- living there with a "nice, but too big" apartment. That's where he ends up, only to find that his new roommate is not what he was exactly expecting and that they won't be getting along anytime soon.
1. Prologue

Everything had started out the night after Rachel had confirmed their plans.

Not only were they going off to New York City and start a pretty much new life there, but they were to have their own apartment –in a relatively nice neighborhood- with their own new jobs and everything –Kurt had resolved that even if he hadn't gotten into NYADA he could always audition next semester and still be in New York with his friend while waiting. It didn't sound horrible, exactly.

That was, until they saw online pictures of the place. The department was by far, way smaller than Kurt had thought –or than Rachel had described-, the street looked like a set for a _Jack the Ripper_'s movie, not to mention that now Rachel was also breaking more new to him; "Well, Finn can always sleep with me in the bedroom."

Kurt fixed his gaze on her face.

"What?" he spat out. He saw Rachel purse her lips in embarrassment and swallow with guilt, lifting her chin ever so slightly.

"It's just that Finn has finally decided to come with us to New York," she said, never looking at Kurt. "He thinks, and I agree, that is the right place for him to find, you know…" she turned to stare deep into his friend's eyes, her wide and big with plea. "His dreams. Next to me."

Kurt had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at her. He licked his lips as he looked away, summoning all his patience not to give his friend the biggest bitch-face he would ever achieve in his life. He understand all of Rachel's obsession with Finn and dreams and being with her soul mate and whatever _godthatwassoboring- _but it getting in the way of their plans was something he was just not about to let slide easily.

"Rachel, we barely fit in that apartment just the two of us," he placed a hand on the back of the chair she was sitting in, standing to her side. "How do you expect Finn, who is already too much a big of a human, to fit in there too? Because let me tell you, your love isn't going to make the apartment bigger. Nor comfortable for me to be in, for that matter," he muttered the last sentence.

Rachel had rambled on and on about how it didn't matter and that they'd be happy together nonetheless, the three of them, and how they would still be living in New York by themselves.

It still sounded tempting, of course, and wonderful, and thrilling, exciting and scary as hell, but still… Kurt loved Rachel and he loved his half brother to death, but there was something that bothered him and made him fidget about the whole situation, he wasn't quite okay with it. And he had the feeling, knowing himself like he did, that he wouldn't be anytime soon.

Which was what he was thinking about when he approached the counter after a slow advancing line.

"The usual, Kurt?" the blond guy said, ready to start touching things and buttons in the register.

"Yeah," he sighed heavily. His coffee shop friend raised his eyebrows.

"Bad day?"

"You know when you are totally happy with where things are going and you already have it all figured out but then your annoying, loud friend goes and changes everything with something you can't even feel bad about because that would just make you a really bad, selfish person?" he laid out monotonously, eyes fixed on the wall behind him.

"Huh…" he chuckled as he doubted. "Not really, not."

"Well, then I hope it never happens to you," he smiled tightly. He really hated feeling like a whimsical, little spoiled brat. It wasn't like it was Finn's fault, but… it's just that everything was already planned to perfection and it sounded delightful and, ugh, last minute changes sucked. He moved to the right, waiting for Jeff to return him his credit card with a small "thanks," when he did.

"But you're still leaving for New York, how bad can it be, right?" he asked.

"I guess," Kurt shrugged ruefully. _But still…_

"I have a friend who is also moving there in like… two weeks," he said as he moved away from the empty counter and started preparing his brewage. "He's lucky enough to have no money issues and to have found a nice, decent apartment somewhere in Brooklyn Heights," he said as he focused on the machines in front of him.

"Whoa, that sounds nice," Kurt lifted an eyebrow. "I'm leaving in four weeks," he replied. Despite the new adjustments in their future, his stomach couldn't help but to clench and swoop at the thought of _living in New York._ A step closer to his dreams and everything they involved and implied.

"You must be so excited," Jeff smiled one last time at him and handed him his drink before another one tugged at the corner of Kurt's lip and he left the coffee shop.

* * *

The dilemma grew more and more as weeks passed because, hey, this was still not cool with Kurt, nothing had changed or been figured out and he was feeling more and more like an ass as days went by.

He barely talked to his father about it, because he knew he was unreasonably, overreacting mad at the whole situation and the guilt was nothing but a weight that settled uncomfortably on his chest.

"Kurt, the only thing I can suggest you to do is to come up with a solution before you get there and snap at them or implode or something," he shrugged quietly. "We both know you're not exactly a… an easy person, especially if this is something that's bugging you so much."

Kurt knew his father was right, but what _was_ that solution?

* * *

He had stayed up until late on the internet and rolling around on his bed, racking his brain. So it was only natural he went for a cup of coffee before meeting Mercedes.

Also, he pretty much fucking _loved_ coffee. And it was always a good way for him to relax.

"Same as always," he said as he leaned against the counter, extending his credit card.

"Dude, don't you ever get tired of coffee?" Jeff asked, shaking his head. Kurt looked at him with wide eyes.

"Don't you, like, work here?" Kurt shot back, looking around at the coffee shop.

"Exactly," he glared at him. Kurt chuckled a little bit.

"Can't be that bad," he said, breathing in the scent of the coffee and the calm and the cozy.

"It's not, but it's one of those days, you know," Jeff lowered his voice. "Two girls already knocked over their drinks and since Matt's not here, I had to clean everything and Jessica is a lazy ass bones so when she's here I have to do most of the job and… Ugh, whatever," he finished with an irritated look on his face. "'m sorry," he muttered.

"Fair enough, I vented last week," he tilted his head. "I'm assuming it's your turn," he smiled softly. Jeff nodded and moved on to start Kurt's drink since, once again, the shop was pretty much empty. "How's your friend doing in New York?"

"Oh, he says it's marvelous and that the apartment is lovely but too big, and he still has to catch up with the rhythm of the city but that New York is making it real easy for him," he laughed as he placed the lid on the cup.

"Well, good luck to him with that. Who knows, maybe I'll run into him," Kurt raised his eyebrows and thanked Jeff once more as he went to a table near the window.

The sky was a light gray and menacing enough for Kurt to know he had to get out of there in no less than thirty minutes or so.

His mind started to wander, to the rain and to Times Square and to Vogue and to NYADA and to money and to rent and groceries and subway and… and Jeff.

He rewound their conversation mentally and looked for him through the growing line of people, anxious to get their morning coffees or whatever they were there for. Kurt got up and fiercely walked up to the counter.

"Jeff, hey Jeff, what was that you said about your friend?" he asked, getting weird looks from a lady behind the current customer.

"What?" he eyed him, confused. "We stopped talking about twenty minutes ago, so I—"

"What you said about his apartment, nice and big?" Kurt smiled and nodded frantically.

"Huh, yeah, lovely but too big—yes, a vanilla latte, yeah," he returned his attention to the client in front of him. "There you go, thanks."

"Is your friend nice? How old is he? You said Brooklyn Heights, right?" Kurt continued.

"Kurt, I'm sort of busy right now," he kept on taking orders, without looking at him. But at Kurt's silent insistence, just by being there on the tip of his toes, he continued, barely glancing at him. "Yeah, he's nine— Ugh, he's _nice_, way _too nice_, in fact, he's our age, sort of and yeah, Brooklyn Heights, why you're asking?"

Kurt smiled broadly at him.

"What do you think he meant by _too big_?" he asked feigning innocence.

* * *

Kay, been obsessing over a fic in which they don't know each other yet, hence, they're not together and they don't get along at first and there's a lot of snarky remarks and sarcasm and just... NOT standing each other and then there's, of course, want and shit. But we'll get there and see how it goes.

This first chapter is sort of weird and it doesn't quite feel right yet, it feels rusty since I haven't written anything in such a long time and I'm still trying to grasp the words before they start flying everywhere and I have no idea which words to use other than _think, said, asked, nervous_ and _looked_. You know, the real obvious, common ones.

Anyway, hope you like it and pleaaaaaase review or something? Thanks :)


	2. Chapter 1

There was only one day left until he left for New York. Until _they_ left. They, he corrected himself on his mind. "Until we left for New York," he chanted on his head, clutching his hands together and with a smile plastered on his face.

He had broken the news to Rachel and while she _was_ disappointed, sad, mad, guilty and terribly angry at Kurt… okay, he sucked. He knew it hadn't been the nicest things he had ever done but he was sure they would work things out. At least they were both in Brooklyn, even if Bushwick and Cobble Hill –"My bad," Jeff had said, which didn't really matter at all for Kurt because Cobble Hill and Brooklyn Heights were practically right next to each other- weren't that close. They were still going to NYADA together a few months from now,_he wished_.

He hadn't talked to his new roommate yet, Jeff had done all the arrangements. Kurt felt weird about not even knowing the name of this guy, and he had meant to email him or something, but with the rush of all the final details and things he had to do and buy and pack and people he had to call and see, he had completely forgotten and he just hadn't find the time to do so.

He did have the address though, of course, and since they were landing at the La Guardia airport and Rachel, Finn and him were going basically the same way, he expected not to feel half as lost as he is now. Taxi, he assumed –and hoped, as much as he looked forward to riding _the_ _subway_ in _the city_, they weren't exactly acquainted with Brooklyn and they had more than enough luggage with them.

He had been particularly emotional towards his father these past few days, towards Carol, too. He loved her and didn't know where they'd be if it weren't for her and Finn, thanks to them both he now felt he had a family more than ever since her mother had passed. Granted, he didn't remember much of her but it still ached to think of the little boy who needed his mom only to find his inexperienced dad who sometimes just seemed to try too hard, that was until they both clicked someplace down along the way –especially after Kurt had opened himself up to his dad, and told him the truth about who he really was- and started feeling like a family again; only the two of them, tiny and somewhat broken, but a family nonetheless.

And now, the four of them were happier than they had been in a long time and Kurt was relieved and forever grateful to what _would've been_ a completely incest crush on his stepbrother, since that was the reason Carol and Burt had met to begin with; him and his ridiculous, awkward effort to drag Finn and himself closer.

He shook his head against the pillow, lying on his bed and trying not to freak out about the flight tomorrow and the luggage and recalling all the things he had done that week and praying to a God he didn't believe in that he hadn't or wouldn't forget anything of importance tomorrow in the middle of the airport at Columbus. But no. Everything was going to be perfect and exciting and bumpy but totally worthy. Kurt had grown to embrace mistakes as life lessons and even to revel in humanity and the imperfection of it. It was something that he sometimes thought about and made him ache because he was just bursting with passion and the need to learn, to explore and create and grow and know and meet and shine and just to be.

Because he was Kurt freaking Hummel and he was amazing. Flawed, but amazing.

* * *

It was raining harder than he had ever seen when they landed. The flight had been amazing, Kurt had even managed a little sleep even though planes weren't his favorite thing in the world, but the flatness of the sky that day had lulled him to a quiet slumber.

Only that flatness had drastically turned around when there were ten minutes left to the flight and the bumps the clammy clouds caused had turned Finn an unpleasant shade of yellowish white.

"Dude, that was sick," Finn smiled faintly.

"Yeah, let's just try for you not to be sick, Finn," Kurt twisted his mouth with disgust, pushing him in the cab door, while he supervised Rachel point at their bags as the driver loaded them in the trunk.

"To Halsey Street and Ralph Avenue, please," Rachel chipped to the man, who politely nodded at her. She spent most of the trip trying to still be mad at Kurt, but eventually gave slightly in to the thought of them not living together while being in the same city, the city of their dreams.

"I am going to miss you, you know?" Rachel whispered dramatically, blinking.

"I know, Rachel," Kurt rolled his eyes and bumped shoulders with her, sweetly, making her look up. "We still live somewhat near, I'll be dropping by all the time and I'm sure me and my roommate will have you both over in a few days when we get accustomed to each other," he quipped, looking ahead.

A few minutes later, Kurt was watching, with a knot in his stomach, the numbers next to the dollar sign go up and up and up and up. Biting his lip and finding himself about to bite his nails –which he took as the last straw- he asked the driver to pull off.

"I'm sorry, can you ask me how to go to…" he tucked his phone out of his pocket to look at the address. "Union and Hoyt Street? It's near Carroll Park," he shrugged, asking more than stating.

"Yeah, you can always take the subway," the beefy man with the growly yet kind voice said.

"Would you mind telling me how or where to? Cause I'm only nineteen years old, coming to live to a new city and I'm not exactly rich and I'm sorry but those numbers are driving me nuts," he smiled uneasily, afraid to offend the driver or of giving him too much information.

Thankfully, the driver only snorted and chuckled before turning to him with an amused look and started giving him directions Kurt concentrated so much on remembering, he thought he probably looked like he was very angry. Or about to become Matilda and use his telekinesis.

Once he paid the remainder of the fare to the man, with what Rachel had given him and a bit of his own money, he took his suitcase and satchel and started walking off to where he had been told. Luckily for him, his coat was water proof and warm, though he did choose to put on the hood, over getting his hair wet and ruined. He got through every gateway and path without a hitch and found himself, exhaling in relief once he was on the actual subway and made sure he was on the right one.

He felt his shoulders slump and held tightly onto his things. If he got mugged or lost something, he would hate himself for a good week.

He kept glancing sideways to the signs and out the window when the subway stopped. He was okay, he was okay, not lost. So far, so good.

Only three stops away from where he had to get off –geez, this place was far from Rachel's- two boys walked in among a bunch of other people and stood close to each other, one of them looking exhausted, the other, just amused.

The wagon started again and Kurt found the constant racket soothing, feeling all nervousness drain from him, and honestly, feeling quite tired himself. He couldn't wait to get to his new apartment, be nice enough for his roommate to genuinely excuse him and lay down wherever he would be sleeping for an hour or too. _Whoa, watch out for the wild kid_, he kid himself.

"Ugh, I'm still so hungover," he heard one of the guys say. "This sucks," he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"You'll get used to it, babe," the slender guy purred with a silky voice, with a downcast glance at the other one. Kurt sort of snorted, amused at how sexual that guy sounded. Apparently, he wasn't very quiet because the one looked up from his boyfriend –or whatever they were- and Kurt was sure he caught his green eyes rake down and up his body with a glimmer that made him immensely uncomfortable. He didn't wait to see what the guy did because he averted his gaze immediately, trying to play dumb.

"…he always fixes me up with the weirdest people," he heard the exhausted one say, dragging his voice. "I don't even know what to expect anymore," he continued. Kurt frowned. Then they weren't boyfriends… Well, that made the checking out a bit less nerve-racking.

"You can always use me as an excuse if you don't like what you see," the other one raised an eyebrow. "It's not like you didn't already, anyways," he grinned, looming over the other one, who merely chuckled and swatted at his arm.

"Yeah, well, we'll see."

Kurt bit the inside of his cheek. He would never understand those sort of relationships.

They exchanged a few more sentences but that was it before little hangover dude and sexual, tall, handsome, intimidating guy left the subway, not before the latter one winked back at Kurt, leaving him speechless and blushing.

Not two minutes had passed before he realized he had missed his stop, he froze and tried to remain calm. After all, he could ask for a map somewhere in the subway station and if he got terribly lost, he would just ask someone on the street.

What he hadn't thought about was the luggage and the –heaven excused his French- fucking rain. Finally, he came across the, by now, after all the asking, two familiar street names on the green signs and looked for the exact address.

The entrance was nice and a classic, just how he had imagined a nice neighborhood in Brooklyn, a couple of stone stairs up to the bottle green wooden door that had a glass window taking over the upper half, far too many flowers on the windowsills of the apartments, now dripping with raindrops, and countless burgundy bricks neatly piled up to form the tall walls that were the façade of the building, parts of it covered with ivy.

_Apartment 4G_. He rang the copper bell, hiding beneath the small rooftop over the short staircase. After waiting a few minutes with no reply, he rang again. When five more minutes passed, he settled for waiting a little more. What if this guy was taking a shower or a nap or had a migraine or something and Kurt was disturbing him with the loud, nerve wrecking buzzing? Then it hit him, what if the guy wasn't home? He'd have to wait for who knew how long. Or if Jeff had given him the wrong address, or worse, he was in another neighborhood? He was probably overreacting.

He rang again, this time with no inhibitions, pressed longer and harder. He waited.

No reply.

He was about to dive in for the fourth time when two people approached the door from inside and he could hear the rattle of the keys against the keyhole. He considered and discarded the thought of that being his roommate since he assumed he would've talked through a speaker or something, so he rang again. Only his finger slipped when he saw who was opening the door.

It was none other than the two guys who were on the subway just before. _What are the odds_, he thought to himself, hoping the tall, awkward –only he was so not awkward at all- one wouldn't notice him pressed against the wall with the ten bells.

"Hey, there."

Except he did. He turned to find both men looking at him. He thought he probably looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Hi," he said quickly and dryly, he wanted this situation to finish already.

"We meet again," he pressed and Kurt's thought was that this way was not only too forward but also too cliché.

"That we do," he replied wanting to instantly slap himself. Not only that sounded even more cliché, it also sounded like he was flirting back. _Way to go, Kurt._

"What are you doing here?" he asked in that sultry, prickly tone. "Back for more?"

Kurt opened his eyes wide, scandalized.

"I beg your pardon?" he almost shrilled. Both the other men, laughed –the shorter one still on the threshold, that Kurt was now noticing, was wearing nothing but pajama shorts and a white tank top and trying to conceal his laughter, as to the other one seemed to be enjoying himself to no end.

"Sebastian, be nice," the one with the curly, dark hair said. "I'm sorry, he's kind of a jerk sometimes—"

"Kind of?" Kurt cut him daintily raising an eyebrow at him, stopping both men on their tracks. They were just staring at him and he suddenly was scared he had offended them. Until the one that was talking cracked a confused, hesitant smile.

"Well, who would say?" Sebastian interjected, the smile still present. "The kitty talks. The virg—"

"Why are you here?" the short one cut his friend of violently, shooting a dashing, tense smile at Kurt. He eyed suspiciously at them and at how Sebastian was scoffing in his friend's direction.

"I was supposed to meet the guy from 4G," he says, glad to be getting help now. He sees how out the corner of his eye, Sebastian's eyebrows shoot right up with another amused smile and how the short guy –whose name he still doesn't know- looks taken aback and gapes at him.

"Wait, you're… You're Jeff's friend?" he asks. Kurt frowns and catches on quickly.

"Oh, yeah… You're…" he stretches his hand forward to shake the other guy's one, who looks like he's now going to be his new roommate.

"Yeah, I'm—My name is Blaine," he steps away from the door to shake Kurt's hand better.

"Kurt," he nods with a polite smile.

"Woah, hi," he greets again, though they've been talking for five minutes now.

"Hi," Kurt repeats as though Blaine's five years old and doesn't understand many things.

"So, you're Kurt," he says.

If Burt has taught his son anything, is that he ought to be kind, patient, compassionate, honest and moral among many other things, but patience is something he's not having right now, drenched to his bones, with his luggage on his feet, with a predatory hawk staring at him like he's a piece of raw meat and a really slow person.

"Now you're just repeating everything," Kurt says through gritted teeth, trying to sound as amiable as possible. Blaine's expression now falters and he _forces_ a tiny smile at Kurt's failed attempt to disguise his edginess as a joke.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow," he admits in a somewhat defensive tone, which only bothers Kurt more. As though he's stupid and is not up to Blaine's line of thought. "You see," he trails off with a sufficient smile, one that is falsely polite. Something that also annoys the heck out of Kurt; he doesn't need this guy's sympathy. He has to laugh to drain out a bit of his illogical frustration.

"Yeah, well, I'm here now, unless you want me to come back… tomorrow, was it?" he responds, faking confusion and sees Blaine's jaw tighten, congratulating himself.

Suddenly, he hears Sebastian snort, breaking the growing tension. He lets out a _"Wow_," with an extremely entertained smile.

"I appreciate his guts," he whistles in Blaine's direction, who just clenches his jaw further and growls a more than whispered "I think you made it clear you appreciate many things about him," at him.

"Please, do come in," he continues, stepping back, no longer with a fake smile in his face, but rather flexing his fists.

"Thank you," Kurt says firmly, walking through the threshold and brushing Blaine's chest with his elbow as he walks past him.

"See you later, lads," Sebastian bids farewell with a cocky grin as he opens up a black umbrella Kurt didn't see him holding.

When he hears the door shut close, the mellow sound of the still strong going rain shuts off a little too, to a simple murmur.

"Do you need help with your… whatever?" he nods towards the bag in his hand.

"Back where I'm from they call it suitcase."

Kurt bites his tongue. What has gotten into him? Blaine is now being completely nice and he's still stuck in jerk-my-wit's-too-good-for-you mode.

"I'm sorry," he shakes his head, closing his eyes, but apparently, that's not what's got Blaine puzzled.

"Wait… Why do you have a suitcase with you?" he asks and Kurt feels no longer guilty. He breathes and turns to look at him.

"What?" he asks slowly.

"I say, why are you carrying that suitcase?" he repeats. Kurt blinks unhurriedly, trying to count up to ten –though he just gets to six- when he licks his lips and opens his mouth again.

"Okay, I'm going to assume there's a misunderstanding here because if not, then I really don't know what to think of you," he drones out.

"Yeah, well, clearly, there's a misunderstanding, otherwise you wouldn't be here with what, I can only assume, is your luggage," he gestures to Kurt's bag just as the old elevator arrives.

"Can we take this conversation upstairs?" Kurt smiles tightly. Blaine huffs a laugh, blinks and nods overenthusiastically enough for Kurt to catch the sarcasm in it.

"After you, please," he opens the elevator doors for him and bows, waiting for Kurt to get in, who just chews on the inside of his bottom lip, mustering all of his tolerance and humanity.

They settle in next to each other and there's a silent pause after Blaine presses the button to the fourth floor.

"By the way, is _may_. Not _can_," Blaine says quietly, staring up at the ceiling of the elevator as they go up, his fingers intertwined in front of his waist. "_May we take his conversation upstairs,_" he corrects him in a whisper and Kurt lowers his gaze, letting out a long sigh through his nose, sensing the corners of Blaine's lips unnoticeably twist upwards.

He hadn't thought _this_ was a possibility.

* * *

YAAAAAAY, I knew I was uploading this one tonight too because the previous one -that's just a prologue, really, idk- was an intro, this is what I was really looking forward to write, and I'm more than happy with the result, hope you are, too.

Please, thoughts, on anything, grammar, storyline, characters, description, whatever is on your mind :)

Looooooooove ya. And if you like it, you can recommend it, that's just if you like it. Tehee 3


	3. Chapter 2

"Jeff mentioned you were 'nice, like… way too nice'," Kurt quoted, frustration accentuated in every syllable. "Though he also said you were nine, perhaps he was referring to the age of your mental development," he took a guess.

"What? Why would he say I was nine?" Blaine gave him a sideways glare.

"How should I know?" Kurt shrugged innocently. The curly haired boy sighed with annoyance as he opened the doors and waited for Kurt to step off the elevator. He nodded in thanks and walked to the middle of the hallway, suitcase in hand. Blaine headed towards the one with the golden G against the dark red, shiny wood and turned the key, opening the door.

As soon as they walked into Blaine's apartment, Jeff's words resonated in his ears, "_He's lucky enough to have no money issues_". The place was lovely and even both the dainty furniture and mesmerizing view out the window were enviable. He stood there, agape with his suddenly too small suitcase and –though polished and well taken care of, thank you very much- leather satchel, clutching them both closely.

Blaine eyed him funnily.

"Yeah, yeah, I know it's like… pretty big, but it's rather nice, just… Whatever," he shook his head and cocked his head to the side, staring at Kurt. "Wait, though, so what's up with you? I mean, Jeff told me you would be coming but I don't really get it. Also, you don't seem to like me very much."

"Wha— That's… crazy, I don't even know you," Kurt trailed off somewhat awkwardly. It was just a first impression. "Jeff spoke greatly of you though, so I wouldn't mind… Getting to. Know you," he mumbled in a soft voice. "That is…" Blaine was staring at him like that again, as though Kurt was a hilariously lost lamb or something.

"I wouldn't have a problem with that either," Blaine resolved, a tad too pleased with himself, gesturing with wide open arms. "That still doesn't explain the suitcase," he pointed out with the same firm, amused tone. Kurt tried not to drag a hand down his face.

"What's your id—-"

"It's not like we're there yet," Blaine said sarcastically, walking towards the kitchen.

"There? There where?" Kurt asked. Now he was lost.

"You know, _there_. In that place in our relationship," he shrugged, still a tint of mock to his voice.

"… Whatrelationship?" Kurt asked, wide eyed. Blaine was frowning at him. "What on Earth are you talking about?" he shrilled, exasperated.

"Wait… God, what?" Blaine sighed. "What are you even here for, to begin with? And please, tell me we're at least taking about the same Jeff," he exhaled noisily.

"Why don't we start all over?" Kurt exploded with a plastered, blown smile. "I'm here because Jeff told me he had a friend in New York who was a really nice guy with a nice, but too big apartment in a nice neighbourhood. I asked him what you meant by "too big" as in, if you were perhaps looking for a roommate because I was going to live with my best friend in Bushwick but her boyfriend came with us at the last minute which I really didn't—"

"Wait, wait," Blaine cut him just as he was gasping for air. "Wait, you want to live here?" he asked with a gleam in his hazel, now softer eyes.

"Huh, yeah, sort of," Kurt affirmed, thrown off by the sudden turn. "I mean, only if you want and you can or whatever," he shrugged, he wasn't about to beg to this guy.

"Yes…" Blaine smiled openly, changing his posture entirely, coming out from behind the white counter. "God, yes, please," he sighed, causing Kurt to eye him up and down as though he was a depraved murderer confessing his love for him.

"Huh…" was all he eloquently muttered, at a complete loss for words for the first time in the day.

"God, yes, I swear, you have no idea how lonely it gets around here," he rolled his eyes with an entirely relieved aim. Kurt's horrified eyes broadened again. "No, no, God, don't misunderstand me, not—That way, no," he laughed in a way Kurt could have only defined as belittling and implying that the mere thought of it was impossibly out of this world. "No, no, God, not at all," the man went on.

"You say God a lot," Kurt pointed out, squinting a little bit. "Are you one of those irrevocable fanatics? You know…" he wielded his hand in the air. "One of those crazy, delirious people?"

"You mean religious?" Blaine's face contorted.

"That's it!" he exclaimed, throwing his head back, as though he had been trying to remember the term for a long time. Blaine chuckled grudgingly.

"No, I am not," he sentenced with a fake smile and steering the conversation back. "But anyway, no, I didn't mean it that way," he nodded tightly. "I meant it as in this apartment is big and I'm used to having a brother and I boarded during most of my high school experience, so…" he explained, keeping it civil. "It just feels… empty, you know?"

Kurt knew many things about feeling lonely. Perhaps even about feeling empty himself.

"So you thought Jeff was sending you… a permanent hooker?" his nose crinkled.

"What? No! God, what…" Blaine shrieked, outraged. "No," he continued, rubbing his chest. "Gee, what is wrong with you?" he breathed, the deep crease on his brow mildly disappearing.

"Anyway, so?" Kurt rolled his eyes, dragging his bored voice.

"No, no, I thought he had 'sent' you as a possible date," he further clarified.

Kurt's eyes glimpsed to the left. "And didn't you think it was weird I was flying in from another state to date you?" he asked at a slow pace.

"Well," Blaine grinned openly at the floor, coking an eyebrow and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Oh, give me a break," he cried out, raising his hands in exasperation.

"I'm joking," Blaine approached him, flailing with his arms. "I'm not that conceited. But no, I didn't know anything about you, no idea where you're from. I just thought he was suggesting we… went out, that's all," he insisted, looking into Kurt's eyes for any trace of disbelief left. Once he was sure and satisfied he stepped away. "But apparently Jeff doesn't know me that well," he raised his eyebrows with a knowing, accomplice-ish grin. He blinked and headed back to the kitchen, taking a mug from one of the cabinets over his head, standing on his toes, slightly stretching his torso.

It was his turn to sting.

"Oh… Yeah, no, you're not really my type, either," he scrunched up his nose, shaking his head, Blaine's head turning to him, now searching for a spoon in one of the drawers. "You know, too…" he marked the air at the height of his shoulder with his right hand. "No, no," he sighed with an airy, indifferent smile. The other boy pursed his lips, never breaking eye contact and Kurt caught how his jaw shifted and he straightened up.

Bingo.

"Great. Then I'm assuming we'll have no problem," he established once more, leaning on the counter. "You know, other than your attitude, that is," he shrugged ironically, waving it off.

"Well, that ain't going nowhere anytime soon, so…" the unnecessarily snappy words continued to flee his mouth.

"Won't be necessary," Blaine pushed, leaving the mug aside.

"Good, cause it's part of the whole package," he continued, filterless.

"Not a problem," he said through gritted teeth, uncorking a bottle of wine with a dry smile. He took it and briskly walked past the couch, up to a door and opened it. "This is your room, hope you find it of your liking," he waved inside, not-so-restrained anger showing in his every move.

"Thank you," he snapped already next to him, suitcase in hand. "I'm sorry," Kurt retorted wryly, looking him dead in the eye.

"Same," he returned the cold stare.

"Goodbye," he established as he went into his room, chin up.

"Goodbye," he strode off to his own with the slam of the door, closing his just as harshly.

* * *

When he woke up, the sky was already dark, stars just starting to show against the dark blue background. He assumed he must've been sleeping for at least five hours. And boy, did it feel like it. He sat up on his bed, so well rested that his eyelids continued to feel heavy, still surprised at the tact of the soft, silky quilt. If the kitchen and living room hadn't already screamed _"Upper Class!"_ the bedroom certainly did. The sheets were undoubtedly expensive and first quality; the pillows had put Kurt to sleep as soon as he had laid his immaculate coiffed head on them and even the dark timber frame of the window above the bed suggested wealth.

He got up with no hurries, fidgeting and not quite knowing what to do with himself. It had been like a switch before, which had been turned on at the first hint of attack –only now that Kurt remembered, Blaine's poor responses didn't even qualify as _rude_- as a silly, pointless defense mechanism. He knew he had to apologize; he only hoped Blaine would be out there and not locked in his bedroom.

Fortunately for him, as soon as he opened the door, day clothes still on, Kurt spotted a mass of curls hanging low, cheek on hand, mid-kitchen. He swayed on his place, pursing his lips, doubting as to how approach this. He exhaled and simply started walking towards the kitchen.

"So you mentioned before you boarded at your old high school," he said, Blaine's gaze tearing away from the crossword he was doing. "What was that like?" he sat on one of the high stools surrounding the kitchen island in the middle of the space.

He looked taken aback at the civil treatment. "Well…" He cleared his throat, standing ramrod straight against the black wooden island with the white surface. He looked thoughtful for a minute. "It was nice," he settled for before turning around and heading for the countertop, leaving his cup on the sink, this time leaving Kurt mute.

"I was going for conversational here," Kurt quipped.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he faked innocent remorse with opened eyes.

"Look, we clearly got off with the wrong foot," Kurt stated. Blaine crossed his arms, resting against the sideboard, offering his attention. "I don't know what came over me, just one second you were being decently nice, the next one you were driving me out of my mind and I just wanted to climb up the walls and-"

"Straying from the point," he spelled out calmly.

"Right, the thing is… I'm sure you're a nice person," he gave in with a resigned sigh. "A perfectly nice person," he admitted, recalling Jeff's words and glancing at those big, whisky-amber, glossy eyes.

Blaine just stared at him. Deadly, unyieldingly stared at him, eyes fixed on Kurt's.

"I haven't been mad in years," he said after what felt like years.

Kurt blinked. "What?"

"I haven't felt this relaxed in years and I didn't even know it was possible," he shrugged, averting his gaze casually. "It's like the first words people use to describe me are either dapper, or gentleman or charming..." he went on. "And that's perfectly fine, I mean, it's who I am, but sometimes the pressure becomes too much…" he quieted, as though he was already saying things that were neither important nor appropriate to chat so freely about with a next-to-stranger. "I box," was what he told instead after other few minutes.

"O— What?" he asked, completely taken aback again at the sudden, random confessions.

"Back at Dalton we had a sort of a…" he let out a chuckle, shoulders and arms twitching in their places. "A Fight Club, if you will," he raised an eyebrow, eyes unfocused to the side, the smile lingering. "It was pretty fun and I think I basically became accustomed to it," he established. "I've been boxing and doing that sort of stuff ever since," he finished with another shrug.

A silence settled between them.

Kurt had honestly no idea what to say or do with that information and it looked like Blaine had run out of things to say and was now perhaps regretting his non-preoccupied rant.

"I had a pretty good nap, too," Blaine's head snapped up from where his eyes were glued to the floor. "I'm guessing I used my brain more in those thirty minutes fighting with you than in the past five months," he felt relief and satisfaction wash over him as he sensed a weight being lifted off the shoulders of the boy standing in front of him. "I never really felt… challenged back at home, so… I guess my astuteness had put itself to sleep," he shook his head. Blaine was giving him a soft smile, which he unconsciously returned.

Blaine laughed again contentedly, arms dissolving to his sides, clearly searching for something to busy themselves with.

"Yeah, well," he mumbled, hand flying up to scratch the back of his neck. "Did you like your room?"

"Yeah," Kurt nodded vigorously. "Yes, it's wonder— it's beautiful," he breathed with adoration.

"That's good," Blaine nodded, pleased but still not entirely comfortable. "I was about to cook something," he gestured to the long counter behind him, bending to look for a chopping board, throwing open one of the small doors.

"Perhaps I should help you," he proposed, Blaine turning to merely smile at him, now seeking a knife in a drawer. "You know, just so you don't burn down the building or something," he noticed how his arms stopped working in its tracks. "I doubt hobbits are known for their gastronomic expertise," he followed, nearing Blaine and taking the knife from his hand.

"Then you obviously have never seen Bilbo Baggins' hobbit hole," he smirked in his direction, tension draining from his torso.

"Never seen those movies," Kurt tightened his lips, eyes focused on the knife.

"You just keep on adding reasons," the other one chuckled as he ducked to grab a few tomatoes.

"On why we should argue?"

"On why we should argue," Blaine nodded from behind the refrigerator door with an amused spark in his eyes.

* * *

Like that I found a reason they actually get along this way, I didn't really know where it was going before, so… I still feel like I'm using only five words. Ugh for crappy, rusty vocabulary. Hope you like this._ Feedback is always more than appreciated :)_

_Honestly, though, it's 6:58 am and I really wanted to finish this before going to bed so I apologize for any shitty written or redacted sentences, grammar mistakes, poorly described things or that ending that's not really... cool, but kay._

_Hope you like it and off to bed ugh god I'm dying,where's my bed, oh there it is i'm fucking exhausted._

_Nighty night 3_


	4. Chapter 3

That first night Kurt stayed a long while after they'd finished supper chatting with Blaine, sitting one in front of the other across the kitchen island.

They talked about their lives, their daily routines, their hobbies and interests, musical preferences, actors and movies they had a burning passion for, covering every silly, trivial topic they could come up with. They laughed and stabbed each other with snarky remarks and witty comebacks, always within the limits of friendly mockery; it was weird but now that it was an agreed behavior, it felt like they weren't allowed to be so rough, being careful not to piss the other one too much, so there was still a slight tension in the air, almost unperceivable.

They were cackling at something they had said when Kurt's phone started ringing on the nightstand, in his room.

"Shoot!" he climbed off the stool and ran to his door. The smiling face of his brunette friend with a mustard beret and a cheeky smile was flashing on the screen, the name _Rachel_vibrating in his hand. "Heeellooo," he chirped, leading the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Kurt," she greeted and he could totally picture her bobbing her head and her eyes downcast and then darting to the ceiling as she played cool. "I was just calling in to make sure you were alright."

"Yes, Rachel, I am alright, very well settled on my new house," he doubted at the last word, since it was certainly not a home yet. "What about you two?"

She started going on and on about the details of their new apartment which was apparently, bigger than it was in the pictures and there was a new ice cream shop in the corner that brightened the street so it didn't look as awful; it was still decent.

"Well, that's great, Rach," he said, stretching out on his bed to glance back to the kitchen, where Blaine was still sitting, waiting for him. "What do you say if we have lunch together tomorrow? You don't start NYADA for another two weeks or something like that, right?" he asked.

"A week and a half, but yes," she certified. "And okay, I guess we could have lunch, Finn has to go do some shopping anyway," she waved her hand. "Do you want me to go?"

"No, no, I'll go," he stumbled in a hurry. "I doubt Blaine will want yet more loud strangers in his house."

"Blaine?" Rachel asked. "Oh! Your new roommate, tell me what's he lik—"

"Yeah, Rachel, look, we'll talk tomorrow, okay? I'll be there at noon or something, yes?" he cut her, his foot tapping repeatedly on the floor. "I'm sorry but we were just finishing dinner and…"

"It's okay, Kurt, I understand," she accepted and Kurt was relieved not to find any irritation nor stabbing in her voice. "See you tomorrow."

"Same, bye," he said, ungluing the cell phone from his ear and dropping it once more on top of the little, dark table next to his bed. He glimpsed at it, taking a deep breath and standing up only to find Blaine's face peeking in on his doorway.

"Sorry," he apologized too quickly, stepping backwards immediately.

"No, it's okay," Kurt replied, with an amused smile.

"I was just wondering if you wanted a cup of coffee or tea or… something," he said, swallowing somewhat nervously. Kurt frowned, had he done something wrong? He studied Blaine as he looked at him, eyes wide and with that constant glimmer of hope and innocence and kindness. He was resting his arm –and Kurt couldn't help noticing that he had a lovely highlight of muscles- on the threshold, stroking the wood with his thumb.

"I'm pretty full, maybe tomorrow," he offered lamely. Blaine nodded with the softest "Okay", to which Kurt responded with a gentle smile. They went back to the kitchen, Blaine leading the way. When he sat back on his stool, settling his elbows on the shiny surface of the kitchen island, Kurt decided to stand next to it.

He had no idea what was up with Blaine's new attitude, but he chose not to ask. However, he couldn't quite think about it in that instant because Blaine was right there and the silence would start being awkward any moment now.

"So, do you have a boyfriend or something?" he asked because, strangely, it was the first thing that came to his mind and the other face snapped right up.

"What? Why would you assume that…" he said, clearly waiting for Kurt to interrupt him with an apology or some sort of explanation. But no such thing happened. "That I'm gay?"

Kurt watched him, frowning and holding back his laughter. If he wasn't sure, he would've felt like crap, because perhaps Blaine was acting that way because he knew Kurt was gay and thought he had a crush on him but… He knew it wasn't that way. "Well, aren't you?" Kurt replied, raising his eyebrows. Blaine was staring at him with parted lips and squinted eyes. "I overheard you and your friend talking on the subway today and he sounded pretty straight forward with you," he quirked an eyebrow again, recalling Sebastian's sultry voice. "Or with me, for that matter," he chuckled.

"Oh…" Blaine uttered. He didn't look particularly comfortable. "Huh, no, I don't. I broke up with my… my last one a couple of months ago," he shrugged, focusing on stabbing a remaining broccoli on his plate with the fork fiddling between his fingers.

"What happened?" he poked. He was quite sure this didn't concern him at all, but the other boy looked so miserable so suddenly, he couldn't help but to feel immensely intrigued.

"I cheated."

Kurt raised his eyebrows yet again and further. He couldn't help but to feel a twinge in his chest, something he identified as disappointment. "Wow."

"What, now you're judging me?" Blaine asked, this time back to jab in a too defensive tone, face straight in Kurt's direction.

"I don't know which were your reasons for cheating and I'm pretty sure you don't need anyone on your back because of it, but yeah, I kind of am," he admitted, nodding his head, still standing a few feet away from the island.

"Great, just what I needed," he muttered, tossing his napkin with unnecessary force to his plate, though Kurt sensed a certain weakness in the movement and he could have sworn he'd heard Blaine's voice break towards the end of the hushed sentence.

"Was it with Sebastian?" he heard himself say, not knowing whether where it had come from nor why on Earth this kept on happening, why he couldn't stop himself from being a nosy asshole.

"What?" Blaine squinted madly, shocked. "Okay, first of all, that's none of your concern."

"I'm sorry, it's just that you guys seem to have a weird relationship," he said, genuinely sorry, explaining his point of view, but not coming off very nicely.

"What do you know about our relationship?" he exclaimed, shrugging.

"I told you already, I overheard you talking on the subway," he attempted to explain once more.

"Maybe you should learn not to eavesdrop," Blaine said, glaring at him harshly.

Kurt stared at him dead in the eye. He leaned forward and pressed his hands on the edge of the island countertop.

"Maybe you should learn to stick your head out of your ass," his voice was dripping venom now as his eyelids relaxed and his jaw clenched. Something shifted in Blaine's posture. "And also, why are you so defensive about people knowing you are gay?"

"I just don't like when people assume. It's another way of being prejudiced," he replied, cold tone still there, clear and unconcealed, never taking his eyes off of Kurt.

"Don't you think that's a bit extreme?" he shrugged imperceptibly. "People who assume might have their reasons; that doesn't automatically make them dicks," he continued. "People assume all the time."

"Exactly," Blaine simply uttered, mirroring Kurt's bearing.

"Well, I'm sorry then, I didn't mean to call you out on being _that much of a gay_," he opened his eyes, bobbing his head. "Especially since you actually are gay, but okay," he shrugged, feigning innocence once more. "I'm going to bed now, goodnight."

His hands left the counter and swayed to his sides as he sauntered back to his room, trying not to mumble under his breath.

He closed the door behind him, trying to forget that Blaine was still in the same floor he was. He walked in circles in front of his bed, rubbing his temples and resting his eyes. He was tired again, why did he feel so drained?

He reached for his suitcase, which he had yet an important part of left to unpack, looking for his pajamas.

He hadn't even finished taking his shirt off when the door burst open and someone –clearly Blaine- strode in.

"Gee, have you ever heard of knocking?" he said, fumbling with his shirt, nervously trying to cover his bare chest and put it back on. Only the nerves increased at the sight of Blaine's openly fixed gaze on him, frowning and slightly gaping. "_Yes?_" he hissed so menacingly. The other man's eyes flew to Kurt's face, shaken awake from his enthrallment.

"You have no idea of who I am, Kurt," he pointed at him, moving a step closer in.

"You sound like a mobster, are you threatening me?" he tilted his head to the side, daring and brushing the wrinkles off of the t-shirt he used to sleep.

"Goddammit, Kurt, no—"

"Then don't point your finger at me," he swatted his finger away calmly. "A cheater is a cheater, don't matter what the circumstances are," he said. And he regretted it.

As soon as the words left his mouth he noticed, beneath Blaine's confused frown, a look of guilt that surfaced painfully.

"I'm not excusing myself for that," he retorted and his words were so firm and cold that they surprised Kurt, dissimilating from the pitying shades from before.

"Okay, fine, because you don't owe me any explanations," he crossed his arms.

"You're so…" Blaine groaned, curling his fingers and leading his hands to his forehead.

"Yes?" Kurt grinned at him.

"_Ugh_, so pretty!" he growled. He looked pleased with himself to see how Kurt's face contorted, entirely discombobulated. But the smug expression vanished in the midst of all the anger and annoyance. "So infuriating and pretty and so snarky and frustrating, that's what you are," he pointed at him again, taking advantage of Kurt's silence. "Yeah," he nodding, smirking like a five year old who had just won one of those absurdly trivial and childish arguments.

He turned around and exited the room, slamming the door.

Kurt was still gaping, standing in the middle of the room. He couldn't get his limbs to move, nor to close his mouth or to swallow.

"_And exasperating!_" he could hear Blaine's voice go on somewhere far in the apartment. "_That's it, that's the word,_" he kept on going, quieter this time, without intending Kurt to listen anymore, though he still did since the walls were, apparently, sort of thin.

"_What the fuck?_" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head, still not accomplishing to turn around and get into his bed.

"_I heard that!_" Blaine called back from the other room, snapping him out of his haze. He rolled his eyes and started untucking the sheets and quilts, energetically molding the pillows.

Okay, the walls were definitely and awfully thin.

* * *

He slowly came back to real life, untangling from the sleepy haze and confusion, stretching his arm to shush the alarm on his phone.

The bed was so comfortable, the quilt was soft and since –thank God- the building seemed to maintain cool, he could pretend the summer wasn't as terrible as it had been the last couple of weeks. Although, it had been raining so often that Kurt couldn't recall how long it had been since he had seen a blue sky. Perhaps ten days or so.

The pillow was so mushy he had to remember himself that he had to be at Rachel's to have lunch. He had to shower and dress and take the subway and heavens knew what else.

However, he still was in New York. So how could he sleep in?

He stretched, kicking the sheets off of him and yawned as politely as possible, even though he was alone in the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, to keep the evil side of his mind from trying to convince him to go back to sleep. New York or not, that bed was way too perfect.

He stood up and stopped for a moment when he remembered last night; in fact, when he remembered the last day. It had been one of the weirdest days ever; Blaine was one of the weirdest persons he had ever met, actually. And to be honest, Kurt was sort of terrified because he had no idea what could happen and he was still wary he might kick him out from one moment to another.

He went to the bathroom that –as he had suspected- was the door at the end of the short hallway, on the wall next to Blaine's room. As he washed his face he thought of how it might be a good idea to ask Blaine if he could take a shower instead of just going for it, or at least letting him know. Just as a matter of consideration or good manners.

Still, it was pretty early. _But_ he had to shower and he really didn't feel comfortable just sneaking into the bathroom.

"Whatever," he whispered and walked over to Blaine's door, slowly cracking it open. "Blaine?" he asked timidly, the room was pretty dark and he could hear noises but no reply. And he couldn't see anything. "Blaine?" this time he called louder, opening the door wider.

"God!" he heard Blaine's voice exclaim and it actually took him _a second_ to catch on.

"What the…" Except the information took _another second_ to process and therefore to comprehend what was going on. He turned the light switch on, to avert his gaze with eyes as wide as plates. "_Shit._"

"Wanna join us, babe?" Sebastian suggested, bare chest and hand vaguely draping the sheets across his lap, probably more because of courtesy than because he cared.

Kurt groaned in disgust and slammed the door behind him, trying to get away from that scenario as fast as possible.

He got to the kitchen, and leaned on the island, tapping anxiously with his foot. _Fucking Christ…_ He cut a slice of melon and poured himself a glass of orange juice. He went back to his stool and started attacking the fruit on his plate. Jesus, those were things that just shouldn't happen, especially with strangers, like the ones Blaine and Sebastian were to him.

"Are you serious?" he complained as soon as Blaine stepped into the area, no shirt on and hair sticking out everywhere, sparing a shallow glance in his direction before continuing to walk towards the refrigerator. "It's ten o'clock in the morning."

There was still no response from the other boy, who wasn't looking at him anymore, either. He was fumbling with some cups and jars and teaspoons, turning his back to him.

"How can you just…" he started, frowning with a mixture of revulsion and bewilderment. Blaine turned to him for a second vacantly before returning his attention to his own breakfast. "When did he even get here?" he asked, crinkled his nose.

"Like two hours ago, Blainers?" Sebastian came in just in that moment, smirking and pressing his lips to Blaine's neck quickly before heading to the refrigerator. "You should learn how to knock, honey," he smiled with a cocked head at Kurt.

"I did and I called, but no one answered, I thought he might be sleeping," he nodded in Blaine's direction, madness subsiding and feeling slightly more sorry. "I sure didn't guess he was having sex with you," he twisted his lips, trying not to stumble upon his words.

Sebastian laughed and it was weird, but there was no hint of mockery or innuendos behind it, just like they were regular friends. And it felt nice.

"Anyway… I didn't hear you," Kurt continued, parting the melon with his fork.

"It's a challenge; whoever is more silent on Tuesdays buys the other one's breakfast next time," Sebastian explained simply, as he swallowed a grape.

"Please tell me there isn't a day where you play who can be the loudest," he scrunched up his entire face.

"No, we replaced that one with this one when the neighbors started complaining," Blaine interfered matter-of-factly.

"Oh, my—" Kurt groaned, barely letting out his laughter.

"I should get going," Sebastian quipped, glancing at his watch. He got up and left his plate next to where Blaine was cooking something on the stove. "See you later, boys," Sebastian said, planting a kiss on top of Blaine's head and winking in Kurt's direction. He exhaled heavily, was everyone a sex addict in that apartment? Although, he hated to admit it, but Sebastian was far too handsome for Kurt to be comfortable just by being anywhere near him. And he _loathed_ himself for admitting as well that he couldn't ignore the jolt in his stomach whenever he looked at him that way.

Meanwhile, Blaine had already sat down in front of him and still had his hooded eyes fixed on his face, covering his mouth by holding the cup of coffee in front of it. He was scarcely blinking.

"What?" Kurt asked, thanking that his words didn't sound ruthless.

"Nothing," Blaine shook his head but continued to look at him for a few seconds.

"Okay…" he accepted, though he didn't buy it. It was too early to insist and get into God knew what.

"Anyway, what was it that you wanted?" he said, dragging his fork across a pile of scrambled eggs.

"I wanted to take a shower and I thought I might let you know before," he said and he realized it sounded kind of stupid. "I mean, it's still your place."

"It's your place now, too, Kurt," Blaine said, pressing the napkin to his mouth, with an amused smile. "I mean, you are paying rent as well, aren't you?"

"Well, technically I haven't yet but… yes, yeah."

"Then make yourself at home," he shrugged simply, leading the last of his eggs to his mouth, before getting up and setting the plate on the sink.

"Okay," something uncomfortable settled in the pit of his stomach. Something that told him that he didn't feel at home and he didn't know when –or if- he would start feeling that way anytime soon.

"Look," he felt a warm hand on his arm. He looked up and Blaine was there, of course, with these unbelievable light and big, hazel eyes that also had green streaks and now with the light of the cloudy day floating in through the large window, they even seemed gold. "I'm sorry if you don't feel at home here yet, I know it's been only a day, a difficult day, but still… I want you to feel comfortable here and I'm sorry if I haven't exactly helped with that," he offered with a polite and composed smile. And Kurt was having a bit of a difficulty connecting that uncanny appearance of a mentor with the guy that enjoyed competing to be the quietest during sex for a free meal. "But I'll try to be less of a jerk or whatever," he finished, pressing gently on his shoulder and with a last smile.

Kurt swallowed, blinking rapidly. "Thanks, and… I'll try to keep to myself, as well," he offered, reciprocating Blaine's soothing smile.

"What do you mean?" Blaine frowned.

"Well, sometimes I'm a bit… nosy and I ask things that don't concern me or stuff like that. I can be quite cheeky," he joked, eyes downcast on the table.

Blaine chuckled, his chin grazing his chest. "Well, I like that," his calm, cheerful eyes set on Kurt's, softly and sweetly.

He swallowed again.

"Are you bipolar?" he asked. To his surprise –though he didn't expect for him to actually be bipolar-, Blaine laughed out loud, real and happy.

"No, I'm not," he shook his head, voice sort of raspy. A quick yawn escaped his lips. "I'll be in my room if you need me; I'm still kind of tired," his lips twitched and he made to start walking.

Kurt studied him; first he was _pretty_ and then he was _exasperating_ and there was squabbling and after that they were being nice, and even sweet to each other.

"Blaine?" he called, before he could overthink it.

"Yes?" he hummed, turning with a sudden twirl, hands grasping the rectangular column at the end of the breakfast counter.

"Were you… drunk or something last night?" he ventured, recalling the conversation in his room, the words echoing in his head. Blaine appeared to do the same, because for a single moment he seemed to not know what Kurt was referring to, mouthing "_Drunk?_" Except then realization dawned and with it, a sparkle in his eyes and a gentle chuckle.

"No," he muttered with one last and soft smile before turning around and disappearing into the hall.

* * *

So I updated this separately in both my blog and Scarves and Coffee cause I just finished the second part and the previous one I liked and felt like uploading earlier, so...

**IMPORTANT:** I'm taking my time mostly because I want the dynamics in their relationship to be very well accomplished and it's kinda difficult because there has to be reasons for them not to get along but also connect in a way that won't have Blaine kicking Kurt out in a couple of days.

I don't want them to fight just because, so yeah, though, I'm coming up with looots of ideas for this. Stuff that I  
really lke, but we'll see what the hell happens.

Also, I started college, which means that I still won't be updating as often, only know I have an excuse! Tehee :)  
As always, hope you like it and yay, feedback!  
I also invite you to read this other fic I'm writing with a friend called The Chronicles of Nightbird (it's about Blaine and Coop and looots loots lots of awesome characters, I swear to God, we're so proud, it's gonna be totally awesome -ouch) and, of course, to pass these on if you like them.

Anyway, thanks again and hope you enjoy my brain and that you understand what I'm trying to do cause it's late and my head is killing me and English is not my first language and there are times when I just feel that I'm basically making up my own language and to hell with English.

Please, opinions and thoughts and everything'll help :)

Seriously, anything will do. Thanks.

Nighty night 3


	5. Chapter 4

"That's nice," Kurt sighed happily. "Well, I'm glad the apartment doesn't suck as much."

They were sitting in a small café, against the window. Kurt had been early so Rachel suggested they went there so he could taste "_the best tea in town, Kurt, I swear!_" and then they could go up to see the apartment.

"Yeah, me too," she beamed, surrounding the hot beverage with her hands. "It's a shame you aren't there with us, though," she went on and Kurt distinguished a certain intentional tone in her voice. "I mean… you could still join us, if you wanted to."

He looked up at her. He breathed quietly, thinking about it and how it would be. On one hand, he hadn't told her anything yet about his first day and his building in Cobble Hill –that was much prettier than Bushwick in his opinion-, the lovely furniture and the… odd roommate.

There was something weird about Blaine; even though he seemed to be very confused about his feelings towards Kurt and one moment he was sweet and then he was sort of a jerk, he was never… well, an _actual_ jerk. At least not that Kurt could remember; after all, most of the times he himself had started the quarrels. Also, he couldn't deny the fact that despite all those things, he still liked Blaine. Good looks aside, he was fun to be with –and to argue with-, they even had the same interests and he was supposed to be a really nice person (hell, he was still allowing a total stranger to live with him now, wasn't he?)

But it still didn't feel right to live in that place.

He looked out the window. The sky was an even, pearl gray, while far and up on the horizon there was a splodge, much a darker tone.

"I…" he hesitated. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? You can live with us instead of with someone you don't know."

Ouch. He literally cringed at that sentence. She was totally right, how could he possibly be unsure of this? He could live with his brother and one of his best friends and instead, he was choosing to stay with a stranger he had only met a day ago.

"Look, let me just think about it, okay?" he inquired, staring at her until she nodded, resigned. "Perhaps I scream yes in your face as soon as I put a foot in the place."

Rachel dropped her gaze and grinned at him yet again. "Who knows," she lifted her steamy cup of tea.

"Who knows," he affirmed, chuckling as he imitated her and clinked their mugs together.

"So, tell me about this guy, Blaine, was it?" she said, leading her drink to her lips.

"Yeah," Kurt sighed, all the sudden feeling exhausted and his stomach swoop at the same time. "Blaine."

* * *

It wasn't Kurt's usual style but it was one that could certainly fit him now that he was going to live in New York. It was dainty and sort of vintage and it had a very charming, calming, rusty flair; it was nice and daring and fun and relaxing. So, naturally, Kurt's jaw dropped as soon as Rachel slid the big and heavy, painted, steel door, revealing the –if not too big- spacious place that smelled of wood and chamomile and rustic.

He immediately thought of a few changes he would make as regards the furniture and some stuff he'd definitely buy in a flea market or something like that, since it definitely suit the style of the apartment.

"So?" Rachel said with a singing voice, clearly comprehending the expression in Kurt's face and decoding his thoughts; they weren't best friends for nothing. "You like it?" she asked, instead of pushing so directly.

"Rachel… It's lovely," he said, voice breathy and eyes dreamily wandering over the place; one of his favorite parts was a large, tall wall of shelves that divided what would be the living room from an empty room (what would probably be Kurt's room).

"So you're moving in?" she asked infinitely hopeful, trying to –unsuccessfully- hide her eagerness.

He looked around again. The truth was that he could actually picture himself living there, he totally could. Drinking tea and coffee lying on the couch, Rachel singing in the shower, Finn sleeping in or coming from the groceries store, having forgotten a quarter of the things he had to buy.

He looked down to his right, where Rachel's vibrant eyes were nailed to him, almost about to pop out of their sockets.

"No."

Her face dropped faster than the lightning that travelled the sky at that exact moment.

"What do you mean, no?" she repeated.

"No," he confirmed, ruefully and full of guilt.

"Kurt, are you seriously choosing a stranger that's seemingly cyclothymic over us?" she spoke the words on his mind.

"He's neither cyclothymic nor bipolar nor anything, we just… have a weird relationship but he's really nice and actually, we sort of… clicked," he admitted, shrugging, feeling something flutter in his chest again. "And I know, I know it's absurd and I basically have no reason to do so, but…" he said. He felt too guilty and stupid and he knew deep down that there was actually no motive for him to feel that way; it wasn't like Blaine was expecting him to stay forever and to be best friends. But he couldn't help it, that sense of betrayal and sort of… more guilt?

"But what?" she pushed, sounding on the verge of both impatient and upset.

"It wouldn't feel right," he let out. He cursed on the inside. Rachel frowned and even Kurt wasn't sure what he meant, but he shook his head. "I don't know, Rachel, please, just… Trust me on this," he begged, still unsure of what the impulse he was obeying consisted of. "Please?" he pleaded, voice high and eyes big.

"Oh, Kurt…" she sighed, her eyes softening and blinking slowly. "It's okay; it's your life, but… Just promise me, as soon as you don't want to live there anymore, you'll let us know and come straight here," she asked, reaching out to play with his hand. "Home," she nodded with a little, tentative grin.

A discomfort settled back on Kurt's body as he agreed, returning the smile, feeling unbalanced and, to be fair, somewhat lost.

* * *

By the time Kurt arrived at the apartment, he was both relieved and confused the sky hadn't started to fall down to pieces. He was positive a downpour would unleash the moment he began walking to the subway, yet instead he had been attacked by a really strong wind and nothing more.

He opened the door to the building with the key Blaine had given him that morning, only asking him to return it before five thirty –it was barely past four o'clock-, time when he had to leave. He went up in the elevator –no longer preoccupied about the abrupt movements and somewhat disturbing noises- and entered the apartment; his new apartment.

He would throw in his pajamas, fix himself a cup of coffee –enough with the tea-, lie on the couch, watch some television and probably fall asleep; simple, yet cozy and convincing enough.

And he didn't have to feel any remorse about being lazy and staying in for the second day in a row because that was exactly what the weather was dictating him to do and he had already made plans with Rachel and maybe Finn for going down to Manhattan the next morning and have a very touristy day, visiting all the spots they loved so much and that were so common for a first time in New York. Not that it was theirs, but to them, the excitement would always be there. They were living in New York City now.

"Oh, thank God," he heard Blaine's already familiar voice coming from their rooms. "I was afraid you wouldn't be here on time."

When Kurt looked up from the teaspoon he was too focused on while scheming his afternoon, swirling around the milk foam in his coffee, he found something he wasn't ready for.

Blaine had clearly just gotten out of the shower and he was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

"It's still threatening to storm out there, isn't it? But I don't think it will be anytime soon," he commented, walking over to the entertainment center against the wall, fidgeting with his wristwatch. "I was worried you might still be on the street when it started raining but I see you're not wet," he pointed out, greeting him with a welcoming smile.

Beads of water were dripping from his damp curls to his neck, sliding down his muscled chest and his perfectly toned back –which Kurt found himself amazedly gaping at as Blaine continued putting his watch back on.

"_You're_ wet," he stated flatly, hearing his own voice airy and high.

Blaine looked at him and frowned with an amused smile. "I just took a shower," he pointed out, as though it was obvious.

When he walked past him on his way to the refrigerator, throwing him a warm, quick smile, a whiff that was wonderfully delightful reached Kurt's nose.

He didn't turn to even try and continue the practically non-existent conversation; the less time he spent drooling and ogling, the better.

He recognized the pouring in a glass and sensed the strong aroma of the orange juice.

Blaine surrounded the breakfast bar, apparently rather comfortable with the fact that he was partially naked –either it was that or he simply wasn't aware of it. He took the keys Kurt had left on the surface, twiddling them between his fingers.

"We should make copies of these if you're gonna stay," he said in a casual tone, putting his elbows on the bar, the muscles in his arms flexing.

Kurt literally had to bite his tongue back from saying "_Don't you wanna throw a t-shirt on?_", because honestly, this wasn't precisely annoying but it wasn't natural, either. Still, saying it would be admitting that he's not comfortable with this guy's perfect, damp torso, and he rather Blaine didn't know that.

"How did it go with your friends?" Blaine asked, putting the set of copper keys aside and smiling at him.

"Great," he beamed back. "They're already well in settled in their new place and everything," he grabbed a magazine lying not too far from his hand; Blaine picking up a _Vogue_ issue from time to time was something they had discussed already the night before and something Kurt approved of deeply.

"Yeah? That's nice, did you get to see the apartment yourself?"

Kurt waited for a beat. "Yes," he sighed.

"And? How does it look?" Blaine pressed him to continue after a moment.

"It's wonderful," he smiled at him pointedly. _Kurt, you're being stupid._ "It has actually nothing to do with the picture we saw on the internet," he added casually.

"Oh," Blaine's eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah, but in a good way; it's really, really nice and the street isn't half as bad and it's actually bigger than we thought. I mean, as far as the pretension of a couple of eighteen year olds living in New York goes, right?" he got no reply. "And Finn fits quite comfortably, so…" he joked, Blaine already knowing about Finn's tallness.

He hummed. "Huh…" he said nothing for a moment, suddenly looking sort of uncomfortable. "And…" he stopped in his tracks, closing his mouth. "What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if the place is big enough for all of you and is actually nice and everything," he shrugged. "Don't you wanna live with your friends rather than with a stranger?"

"Are you kicking me out?" he inquired with a teasing smile.

"No, silly," he chuckled. "I mean, you say you could all actually live there and they're your friends," he shrugged quickly. "Granted, is no Cobble Hills but you wouldn't have to deal with Sebastian anymore. Or with me for that matter," he laughed, openly staring at him.

"Gee, thanks," he muttered, jokingly faking bitterness.

"No, no, that's not what I meant!" he hurried to mend, gesturing wildly with his hands. "It's just because, well… Sebastian's an ass, you said so yourself, before you even got to know him, that's it and… well, you and I are kind of…"

"I like you," he cut him. Even though he wanted to know what Blaine's opinion was of him –or regards their dynamics- he thought it was wiser to finish the conversation as soon as possible. "And I like Sebastian, too," he decided to focus again on the dull yet graceful clothes ornating the pages. "He's fun."

He was well aware of Blaine's expectantcy, waiting for him to answer the original question.

"So…" he pushed once more nonetheless, oblivious to Kurt's way of communicating and above all, of dismissing the topic.

"Geez, Blaine," he put down the magazine. "Yes, they did ask me again if I was sure and if I wanted to live with them now that I know what the place looks like and that there is room," he ended, nailing his eyes to Blaine's impatient, anxious ones.

Again, he got no reply.

"I said no," he clarified casually. He licked the tip of his index finger and turned the page, tearing his gaze away from the other boy.

He blinked slowly, lips slightly parted.

"Why not?" Blaine asked after a moment.

Kurt looked up at him again with a gentle sigh. "I don't know," he shrugged. "It's not like I said no forever. It's not definitive," he uttered, unsure of his words, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Blaine, on the other hand, nodded and looked away.

"So, do you have any other plans for today?" he cleared his throat, completely kicking the subject out of sight.

"Not really, other than hauling myself into my pajamas and just being here," Kurt quipped, still passing the pages. "What about you?"

"Huh… actually, I might be home late tonight," he glanced at him, anxiousness glimmering within his honey colored eyes. "But you can order whatever you want or cook something yourself, I think the fridge's full, so…" he added offhandedly and it gave Kurt the impression he was feeling guilty.

"Mmm, luxuries," he droned out nevertheless. He would have to remind himself to buy food as well. It would be terribly rude and ungrateful of him if all of the sudden, he moved in and all the food in the house disappeared.

Blaine chuckled, eyes wandering over the breakfast bar between them. "Yeah."

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked, frowning slightly. The other boy hummed distractedly in agreement, concentrating instead on his hand, not quite paying attention to Kurt's inquiry. "Blaine, it's fine," he stated, finally making the boy look up from his nails. "I don't mind being alone," he shrugged, shaking his head deliberately, trying his best to reassure the boy in front of him. Besides, he really didn't, in fact he was longing for it.

Blaine still looked hesitant for a minute, though he didn't say a word.

"Okay," he uttered quietly, not denoting any sort of emotion.

Yet, actually, there was something in his eyes. Kurt thought it was probably always there, because when they weren't harassing each other, Blaine was polite and gentle and weird, yes, but there were moments like these when there was such warmth in his whisky, amber eyes that it made Kurt's heart clench a little bit.

He pursed his lips before briefly smiling back and turning to the fridge, although he didn't really need anything from it.

"Okay, so I'll go get changed," Blaine called. "And then I'll be going," the corner of his lips turned upwards.

"'kay," Kurt nodded, ignoring the milk he was pretending to be looking for.

Blaine nodded once more and left for his room, scratching the top of his head. Once he disappeared Kurt walked out from behind the refrigerator door slowly, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. He gave a long sigh and walked towards his own room, already longing to put on the most comfortable home clothes he owned and just_ freaking relax for onc_e, he exhaled.

* * *

He stumbled against his apartment door, chuckling at himself when he spent two minutes trying to put the key into the hole. When he finally succeeded to open the door he took off his coat, face and fingers numb because of the wind, redirecting his other hand towards the light switch on the wall to turn it on.

It was barely after eleven, so it wasn't really late, but he kept on nervously glancing at his wristwatch all the time. The truth was, he didn't feel well leaving him alone on his second night only. Sure, him being home locked in his room wouldn't make much of a difference, but at least he was_ there_. It just made him feel better with himself and also, he was sort of tired, not exactly in the mood to go out and drink too much. Okay, perhaps that last part was open for discussion.

The light showered the center of the living room, washing shadows off of the TV, the coffee table, a couch and a very much asleep boy on it. Blaine hurried to turn it off as soon as he realized Kurt was there, swearing under his breath.

He was curled in a ball, with a quilt partially draped over his body, most of it on the floor and a documentary about a celebrity Blaine was sure he knew from some cheesy old movie glowing on the screen. He was peacefully resting, no particular characteristics about him. No snoring, no smile on his face, not even much of an up and down movement of his chest. It was all so ordinary, so simple about it; so subtle and even, perhaps… Delicate. His hands gently laced under his head, his flawless hair still in place, pretty cheeks flushed as always, apparently.

Blaine shook his head and tore his eyes away from him, starting to walk towards his room after grabbing a glass of water. When he surrounded the couch on which Kurt was soundly sleeping he turned to turn the television off, glancing once more at him.

He stopped, placed the cup on the wooden table, took the quilt and rearranged it over him, making sure it covered him in all the right places, smiling when his feet curled and his face twitched at the mere brush of his fingers close to his soles. He retrieved his beverage, studied Kurt's face for another second and closed the door to his room after five more seconds, ready to close his eyes and fall asleep as soon as his head sank into the pillow. He changed into his pajamas, unable to sleep in his street clothes since he was a little kid, the face of that handsome guy that had approached to talk to him at the bar reemerging in his thoughts, his number waiting to be dialed, saved on his contacts and his brain giving in and unplugging for the day, like he had predicted, just as his eyelashes fluttered close.

* * *

**Okay. So... I uploaded Walk The Line (my fifties Klaine fic if anyone's interested, I love that fic. It's just a whole world in my head and I love them both so much) a few days ago and am currently writing the next one and today I'm updating this as well, so... This is kind of a huge accomplishment, haha.**

**Either way, it's not like I have been neglecting either Klaine or fanfiction. My friend and I (whom I also write The Chronicles Of Nightbird, aka TCON with) are planning a new fanfic that's gonna be completely epic, I swear. A full on AU that's gonna have the best characters (for us) and just... loads of crazy, awesome shit.**

**It'll be awesome. We're planning it BIG time, we feel so professional, it's awesome, we have like maps of the place and sketches of some scenes and characters and there are so many amazing, epic things, I swear, those are the two words I use to describe it cause... God. I don't know, I sound so conceited, but I promise, I want you to read it like... NOW.**

**Anyway guys, hope you like this and I'm so sorry for taking so long but, just so you know a few months ago I had to do time at a McDonalds waiting for a friend and I came up with a WHOLE TIMELINE on this, so I already know EVERYTHING THAT'S GONNA HAPPEN.**

**You're in for a bumpy ride, worthy of a cheesy romantic comedy. It'll be fun as fuck, though :)**

**Thanks and hope you enjoy this, spread this (shit) as (nutella) much as you can guys, please? Loooots of love for you :)**


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